


Teamwork

by romymars (purple_pyro)



Series: Tradeoffs [2]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Gen, giant cakes, lots of little children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_pyro/pseuds/romymars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which gourmet kitchens provide a surprising number of ways to hospitalize yourself, Chane does crowd control, and planning birthday parties is more difficult than bootlegging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

"What flavor is it again?"

"Just white."

"Bo-ring! Can't we make it red velvet or something fancy?"

"No, no! Let's do triple chocolate fudge!"

 _Susie, put the meat tenderizer down,_ Chane eyed one girl with a tacit warning. 

"At least Nice is providing fireworks, even if its her own birthday."

"Giving her a free excuse to set some off is enough of a present. An' why we gotta make this cake so tall?"

"Did'ja forget how many people we got in this gang?"

"Yeah, there's at least ten!"

"You ain't wrong."

"Who stole the goddamn spatula!?"

"Language!"

"Guys, keep it down or we'll get another noise complaint!"

"Ooh, the police. Very scary."

There was a clatter as a metal pan, oiled and floured, hit the tiled kitchen floor in a poof of white. 

"Three minutes and forty one seconds exactly until the oven's done."

"What's this beep-y thing?"

"Help me up, I wanna sit on top of the ice machine."

"We need a teaspoon."

"No, it's a tablespoon, dummy!"

"But it says '1 t baking powder.'"

"What the hell? They both start with 't!'"

"Whose birthday is it again?"

"Nice's!" Fan yelled, trying to mix red dye into a bowl of icing and maintain a semblance of order in the kitchen. The big day was the day after tomorrow, and on top of feeding their ever-growing gang, Eve Genoard was coming to visit. She was their benefactor, in an odd sense, though her mere acquaintanceship felt like a blessing every time she stopped by Millionaire Row. Even when she'd found out that there were more people living there than the promised "few friends to help work," instead of kicking them out as anticipated she asked for introductions. The delinquents were definitely a troublesome bunch, and their residence at the Genoard sub-estate had led to some expensive accidents, yet Eve still claimed to owe them for helping her reunite with her brother in 1933 (it was less by them and more by a certain Mexican swordswoman forcefully escorting her to the skyscraper Dallas coincidentally fell from the top of).The delinquents were far less fond of the troublemaker than his endlessly kind little sister, and nobody on the East Coast knew how the two were actually related. 

The gang didn't have a lot to offer Eve in return for her kindness, so they tried to do something special whenever she came to New York City. This year was a giant cake, to include Nice's 24th birthday in the festivities since Eve would arrive the very same morning. After a little math and factoring in just how much the gang was capable of eating, Fan estimated that it would take at least seven tiers to get everybody a slice and satisfied. Knowing the workload, Nick had decided to send him some help in the form of the younger third of their clan, and though the prospect of having twelve pairs of hands in the kitchen sounded great on paper, nobody had expected the hell the preteens would quickly bring. Chane had stopped to investigate the noise and regretfully became pulled into the frenzy, though Fan was guiltily thankful to have somebody keep the kids away from the sharper utensils and to ice the cakes. She was oddly skilled at it. One of the eleven-year-olds commented that it was because she also used knives for killing people, though he'd quickly fled the room from Chane's silent, fire-eyed glance. 

This led to now.

"Hey Fan! We have carrots! Can we make it a carrot cake?"

"Eww! Why would you put vegetables in a perfectly fine dessert? Carrots are gross."

"What are you, five?"

"Guys, I found alcohol!"

"I dunno, it looks weird... let's get the corkscrew."

Chane slapped away any hand that reached for it. 

"Guys, help! I can't get down from on top of the ice machine!"

"I'm booooored. How much longerrrrrr."

"Why do we have four different kinds of cheese?"

"Hyahaa!"

"Hyahaa!"

"Are baking powder and baking soda the same thing?"

"No! No no no no no!" Fan swiped the box from a young girl's hand before she could add the incorrect ingredient. 

"Here, gimme that. My cousin showed me this trick with vinegar-"

"It explodes. I know."

"Hey, stop throwing ice at me!"

"Why is there butter on the floor?"

"I could kill someone with this."

"Don't overbeat it!"

"You can do that?"

"Well, I think so."

"The chinaware is so pretty..."

"Can we make pancakes next?"

"Breakfast was eight hours ago, dummy!"

"Actually, it was five hours and 42 minutes ago."

"Shut up Melody."

"You shut up!" Another boy answered for her. 

"No, you shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"No, you shut-"

_Ding._

The timer rang, and the kids scattered away from the oven as Fan approached with padded mitts. The smell of vanilla swept over the kitchen as he pulled out the second to last layer, carrying it over to the counter to let it cool. Everyone in the room paused to savor the smell of freshly baked cake, the first quiet moment in over two hours. 

Then Chane caught someone about to swipe a fingerful of icing from her bowl, and chaos resumed.


End file.
